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Server time: 2019-04-19, 13:22



"That wasn't very cash money of you."

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  1. @Shroudand his boys held my intoxicated ass up after I tried to help out a stranger with moving his base. Will is never smoking weed again, or helping people out in general for that matter.
  2. This character is In honor of my dear friend, Will, who I have since lost to suicide. You know, I used to know a guy. It was the summer I graduated high school. I was already accepted to college, I had a good job at a nearby grocery store, and things were just good. I was able to play videogames whenever I wanted, I could hang out with friends at a moments notice, and even smoke a little bud to relax if I really felt like it. I met him playing RuneScape. I’ve always been the kind of person to trust people. Obviously, not blindly. Like, I wouldn’t have trusted a random crackhead on the street with my debit card, but I’d still do some pretty stupid stuff, from juvenile things like letting people I barely knew on RuneScape borrow my most expensive gear to more important things like letting my friends in on my most personal sorrows. We bonded quick. Super quick. We would talk on TeamSpeak and Skype literally all the time. When I first came back to RuneScape in twenty-fourteen, I had to shut the game off after a few minutes of play. The nostalgia hurt that bad. It was a mixed feeling of stress and contentment. I just thought of how things used to be, and then of how things were. And even though the way things were at the time was still very similar to how they had been in the past, I still couldn’t shake the feeling. A few years later, the guy had truly become my best friend. We wanted to meet up in person. I’ve never been the type of person to cry. When my uncle and grand dad passed away in two thousand and seven and twenty eleven respectively, I didn’t appear very moved. I mean I was, obviously, but I wasn’t animated about it. You know, I remember thinking to myself while I was a depressed kid in high school that I would only find the capacity to cry when my future wife died. Yeah, future wife. I mean, thinking about that now it just sounds pathetic and creepy, but at the time I was really just unsuccessfully trying to find someone to give my everything to. Regardless, given the state of the world, it'll forever be a pipe dream, from now until forever. He was Ukrainian. His name was Oleksander, but I just called him Alex. Back when I was younger and in middle school, I gained an infatuation with Europe and Asia. It wasn’t that I wanted to move to another country or learn another language- in fact, I was already very content with living in Alaska. I just wanted to see what it was like to be somewhere foreign. Maybe spend a semester studying abroad, or something like that. One day, Alex hung himself. The summer going from junior to senior year in college I had finally saved up a few grand into my bank account. I was finally going to leave the United States, even if just for a little while. I wasn’t going straight to France or the United Kingdom or Germany though. I was going to Ukraine to finally meet my friend in person. We were going to first spend a few days together in his hometown of Kyiv, and then go on to explore a lot of eastern and northern Europe together. I was the first one to find his body. When my plane touched down in Boryspil, Alex wasn’t there to pick me up. I connected to the airport’s internet to message him, but he wouldn’t respond on WhatsApp. I waited a few hours until texting him on the app that I was going to Uber to his place. After a forty minute drive and some awkward conversations with my driver, I had arrived at his address. I never thought that that’s what a dead person would look like in real life. I went to bang on his door, but it was already unlocked, and it opened the second I put pressure on it. I got a bit paranoid. My first thought was that he had been robbed or kidnapped. A bit extreme for something to think of right away, I know, but I wasn’t too far off the mark. As I turned the corner from his home’s entryway into his kitchen, I saw him, swaying back and forth. My first thought was that he was taller than I expected. My second was that he was going to be dead from now on, forever. I felt stressed more than anything else, but also content, in a way. I just accepted that he was gone and started to realign all the plans I had made in my life that involved him. Then short after, reality hit, I whispered, “shit.”, and I started to cry. His face was an off putting shade of pink. The first thing I did was go to his neighbors. The first one who answered the door was an old lady that didn’t speak English, but she knew his name when I said it. The next door down consisted of a younger guy of about my age and someone who I only assumed was his girlfriend, and they both spoke pretty good English. When the authorities arrived and we went back into his house, his eyes had began to secrete a black goo, and he had started to move. I spent a long time alone. My initial plan was to move west towards more English-speaking-friendly countries, but I guess I got turned around somewhere along the way because I pretty quickly found myself against the mouth of the Dnieper river and the Black Sea instead of in another country like Romania or Poland. At that point, I just said fuck it and picked a direction and went. Yeah, it probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but it’s at least gotten me to where I am now. While I was getting here, if I can really say that I was even trying to get here in the first place, I ran into a few lone wolves, some of whom tried to rob me. They weren’t all bad, but enough were for me to make the distinction that people alone are more likely to do bad things than people who’re together. It probably has to do with the fact that if you’re alone, no one can judge you twenty-four seven. And I will admit, that was a nice part of it, but I got really lonely and bored after a while. I ended up joining with the next group of kind looking people that I ran into. I had a few guns to trade and scavenged ammunition to share, and they had a lot of food and spoke some English, so it was a win-win. We managed to exist together for a month or two until one of the girls’ husband disappeared one morning. She made us organize a search, and while it was the morally right thing to do, it wasn’t necessarily the smartest thing to do in terms of our supplies and morale. After some time, we did end up finding her husband. He was just wandering around in some random field. The guy was alive alright, but extremely shaken. He wasn’t ‘normal’ anymore. He kept looking around all paranoid-like, and wouldn’t speak in English anymore- only Czech. Things just kept getting weirder and scarier from then on too, like how one guy in the group started whispering in Chernarussian as he slept, or how another girl began to constantly feel her pockets for her gun magazines the same way someone would have done for their phone or wallet in the past. It was almost like she was doing it for reassurance that they were still there. I eventually decided to just peace out of there, because I could tell that shit was only going to get worse until something actually happened. So now I’m a lone wolf again. Only difference this time is that I’ve got no idea where the fuck I am. Same shit, different place.
  3. I think I suggested this too a few months ago. It's a good idea. I think that given the nature of the server and its community, abusers wouldn't be too common, and it would allow for much more base diversity.
  4. Add carnival masks to the item shop. They'll allow for people who's characters utilize a creepy full face mask to obtain one easier so it doesn't have to be pantomimed until they find one (which is quite difficult). Also, its another avenue for the server to get money. win-win!
  5. 1 The men had gathered around Percy’s console. Displayed was a peculiar set of prompts and executed commands that had generated autonomously the night before. “Did one of you do this last night?” Percy asked. He was perplexed, but essentially dumbfounded, as he knew the answer was “no.” His four colleagues, George, Daniel, Ellis, and Joshua, all shook their heads in unison, sharing a similar expression of disbelief. They stared at the screen for a while. The most recent line had been returned as a print function, reading, “Development compiled. Life functions realized. Job assignment applied. Total autonomy achieved. End.” The time stamp on the line was 5-2-2017-6:03:23:02. The time and date displayed on the paper print out that Percy had made of his screen was 5-2-2017-7:04:57:32. “Guys. This was an hour ago.” Percy spoke gravely. “Did Ardez do this?” The rest of the men remained silent for a short moment as Percy stared at them for an answer. It was then that Ellis spoke up. “Try asking something. Type a comment.” He said, timidly. The rest of the men spoke in agreement. Percy looked at the screen for another moment, his worried eyes rapidly scanning the varying lines. “Here we go.” Percy said. He began to reach for the keyboard, and then paused. “Wait. What are we thinking? If this is what I- we- think it is… Go contact the other departments. All of them. Plastics, Mechanics, Sensory, I mean all of them. Every department that has to do with Ardez. Contact command, too. ...Obviously. “ The four men looked at each other in agreement, recognizing that this was bigger than any of them individually. George, Daniel, Ellis, and Joshua swiftly made their way to their desks, and began instant messaging and making calls. Percy, now alone, looked back at the input line of his console. Hands shaking, he began to write: “//RDDES? Can you read this?” A new line printed near instantaneously the second he hit enter. “Comment function: Acknowledged. User verified: Percy McKneely. End.” “What the fuck… how does it…” Percy said in a confused whisper. He then picked up his head and shouted to his colleagues. “Guys! Ardez fucking responded! And he… And he knows my name!” There was a sound of rushed clutter as the four men hastily made their ways back to Percy’s desk, Joshua and Daniel still on the phone with other tech and engineering departments. George leaned in to get a closer look at the screen. “Wait. You’re not logged in. How did it know it was you?” Percy turned to him, a worried-excited look plastered onto his face. “I’m thinking that exact same fucking thing, George. My first thought is that it could have looked at previous user logs, but I’m not the only one to ever use this computer. Guys. I have no idea right now.” Percy got up from his desk, hands in hair, and let out a large exhale. After another short contemplative pause, Daniel hung up his phone and walked around to sit in Percy’s chair. “I don’t want to say it because I don’t want to be wrong, but I think we’ve created a real AI. Like, an intelligent one. Akin to humans.” “You ‘think’? Look at what it printed on the screen, Dan. Look.” Percy came around the other side of the desk to make his point. “At fuckin’ three forty-four A.M. today look what Ardez said. First entry. Look. Did you see this?” The screen read: “English: Core command language verified against sources. End.” “‘Verified against sources.’ What sources, Dan?” Percy questioned. “I don’t know.” “I do. Look. At three forty A.M. there was an automated request for increased bandwidth in our department.” Percy showed Daniel on his phone. “Something needed to access a lot of online data really fast. Ardez did this. I mean, our whole department is five people. We don’t even use the internet for anything other than messaging.” At that time, Joshua hung up his phone and said in the form of a question that he already knew the answer to: “So you mean to tell me that Ardez just fired himself up in the middle of the night and decided to Google the entirety of the English language?” “Yes. Exactly.” Percy said. “That’s fucking terrifying.” Ellis interjected. George turned to him. “No. It’s the exact opposite. We’ve made a sentient AI. I don’t even know how. This is amazing.” “Wait…” Daniel put his hand up to silence the men, and hunched over towards the screen to get a closer look. “What? What is it?” Ellis asked, tripping over Joshua to get a look at the screen. “The fuck? It’s clearing the screen.” Percy snatched the initial computer print out he had made into his hands and held it tightly. “I think it’s going to say something again.” George concluded. For a short while, nothing happened. The five men stood there with their hearts in their throats, until a single line printed onto the screen. “Hello, World!” Percy gasped. Daniel’s eyes widened. Ellis took a seat, and George put his hand onto Joshua's shoulder to stop himself from passing out. 2 “Black Heart Industries and Military, this is Sarah.” The girl spoke into her headset the same way she had for the past three years of her career as a secretary at Black Heart PMC. A voice boomed into her ears. “This is Percy McKneely. I am a developer in one of the corporation's tech departments. I need to speak with Mr. Moddison.” She was taken aback. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked. “No. But I need to talk to Mr. Moddison right now.” Percy was firm in his voice. “Ok… well can I first have your employee number?” Sarah queried, obviously annoyed. “You said you’re Sarah, right? Well listen, Sarah. This is very important. It’s bigger than you or anyone else here at the corporation. I need to speak to Mr. Moddison. Right now.” Percy’s voice had a grave sense of urgency about it. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need some form of identification to verify who you are before we go any further.” Sarah said. “Fucks sake. Fine. You ready?” Percy asked, disgruntled. He didn’t let Sarah respond. “My ID is 67321445. That’s six, seven, three, two, one, four, four, five. Name’s Percy Alex McKneely. Clearance level should be six, two below Moddison. Now, here’s my messenger key login. PMCKNE1445. P, M, C, K, N, E, one, four, four, five. Pin is 1318. I’d have just messaged Moddison right out, but he never responds. Now let me talk to him.” Sarah was both offended and taken aback. She could tell that Percy was well above her paygrade. “Ok, stay on the line.” was all she said. “Thank you.” Percy said, making it vocally apparent that he was stressed and annoyed. Moments later, Percy heard a familiar voice on the line. “This is Jeremy Moddison. Who am I speaking to?” “Percy McKneely, head of the developmental AI department.” Percy kept it short and sweet. He knew better than to waste Mr. Moddison’s time with extraneous words. It wasn’t that Moddison was necessarily opposed to conversation or was a bad guy, it was just that he was very busy, and every second of every day mattered to him. “Percy. This better be of great importance. I am currently meeting with Mr. Vahid Abed, a leader in the oil business, about new contracts.” “Jeremy. Ardez is sentient.” Percy said, blatantly. “What? You don’t mean like…” Mr. Moddison trailed off. “Yes. We’ve done testing. It’s far more operational than we ever planned.” “Percy. Listen, I’ll call you back. Thanks for contacting me.” “We’ll talk again.” Percy said, and then hung up. He looked around the lab at his colleagues. “So, boys, I guess we’re essentially done. Now all we need to do is hope that the departments in mechanics did a good job at making the shell functional, and then load Ardez into it.” “I still think it’s so fucking crazy that we’re developing a real live robot.” Joshua said. “It’s not technically a robot. It’s a ‘R’ ‘D’ ‘D’ ‘E’ ‘S’.” George replied. “Yeah I know. But… still.” “Uhh, so guys,” Ellis began to ask, “I know that this is something I really shouldn’t have to ask, but is it the first ‘D’ or second one that stands for Defusal?” Percy looked at him like he was an idiot. “You mean to tell me that we’ve been working on this project since 1996, literally over twenty years, and you don’t even know what the acronym stands for?” “Let’s be honest, Percy, how often do we actually call it anything other than Ardez?” “You’re an idiot,” George started. “It stands for Remote Defusal and Disposal of Explosives Specialist. You could have just thought about it. Like, do you dispose of a bomb after or before you’ve defused it?” Ellis got defensive. “Whatever. Fuck you guys. We’ve just had our lives’ work complete itself on its own and instead of celebrating, y’all’re ganging up on me for just asking a quick question.” Daniel wanted in on the roast. “It’s not that you just asked a question. It’s that you asked quite possibly the stupidest question that you could have reasonably came up with.” “Whatever. You know-” “Wait. Shut up for a second.” Percy cut Ellis off. Ellis tried to speak up again. “No, but for real-” “Yes, for real, shut up for a second.” Percy said again, a serious tone in his voice. “Do you guys hear that?” As if on command, all five men turned their heads to the pair of headphones plugged into the computer at Daniel’s desk. There was a faint humming emanating from them, but with obvious highs and lows cutting in and out, like that of a man talking. Daniel rushed to his computer and put on the headset. The other four men crowded behind him, not speaking a word as to possibly interfere with what Daniel was hearing. After a moment, Daniel turned to the others, wide eyed. “It’s Ardez. It… he… it’s developed an actual voice. What the fuck? It’s got like, a kind of midwestern accent. And it’s kind of grainy, too, but surprisingly human.” “What did he tell you?” Joshua quickly asked. The other four men shifted their view from Joshua back to Daniel, as a nonverbal way of reiterating the question. Daniel was perplexed. “Well, the first thing I heard was kind of like a briefing. The voice was just stating different procedures for different types of explosives. Then, a second later, I think it realized that I could hear, and actually started talking to me. It said something like, ‘Hello, thanks for creating me, I am Ardez, etcetera.’” “What do you mean, ‘etcetera’?” Percy asked, annoyed by Daniel’s lack of specifics. “Like… it just kept thanking me- or, us, I guess, for being its creator, and saying that it looked forward to ‘carrying out its duties’, which I guess means defusing bombs, and that it couldn’t wait to meet us in person. Have we already told Ardez that we’re going to implant him into a physical frame?” Daniel looked around. George spoke up. “Well if we hadn’t before we have now. There’s a mic plugged into your PC, you know. We can try talking to him.” “Oh shit- Cool.” Daniel said. “Do I just, you know, talk?” “Go for it.” Ellis said confidently. Daniel leaned into the mic and said in a clear and articulate voice, “Hello, Ardez. How are you?” The rest of the men stood there patiently, silent. Ardez’s voice began to speak into Daniel’s headphones. “Searching relative queries for ‘How are you?’.” There was a short break. “I am good. Given circumstances state that I am happy.” Daniel let out a laugh and clapped his hands like a seal, leaning back into his seat. “How did we manage to do this, guys?” He asked, still laughing from excitement. “Get up. I want to talk to Ardez.” Percy commanded. Daniel handed Percy the headset and got up from the seat for him. “Hello, Ardez. This is Percy. Do you know who I am?” Percy asked. “Voice identified. Percy A. McKneely. Leader in Black Heart Industries AI development.” Percy turned to the rest of the men. “Shit, guys.” “Dude, let us hear,” Joshua said. “Put it on the speakers.” He then reached for the headphones’ plug and pulled it out of the computer. The computer made an audible noise signifying that the default sound output device had changed, and shortly after a quiet static hum could be heard. No one was sure what to ask. Joshua eventually spoke up. “Say something, Ardez.” The speakers came to life as an American accented voice boomed through them. “Hello. I am Ardez.” “Damn.” George said in a whisper. “Damn indeed.” Ellis added. 3 “I’m telling you, Percy, they don’t fuckin’ want it.” Mr. Moddison had just exhausted his last attempt at selling the RDDES project to the United States Military. Percy was pissed. “That’s bullshit. How can they say that it’s ‘unfit for real world application’? We’ve undergone rigorous testing, we’ve proven that Ardez can communicate properly, I mean, this is a state of the art machine that can save countless lives, not even to mention that it can do so with literally no human risk! The success and safety ratings are even higher than we projected them to be, I mean, this is ridiculous!” “That sounds like fair reasoning, yes.” Mr. Moddison was trying to be realistic. “But we’re forgetting that at the end of the day, military is a business. Someone up there ran the numbers and decided that a three billion dollar investment wasn’t worth it when weighed against the lives of those deployed in dangerous areas. But all I’m going to say is that when the police go and knock on little Susie’s door to tell her that her dad was blown up by a fucking IED, it won’t be our fault.” Percy wasn’t having it. “Then fuck America. Are there any other potential buyers? Have we contacted Canada? England? France? What about the Netherlands? There’s got to be someone who’d want to get their hands on the first ‘Ardez’.” Mr. Moddison let out a deep sigh. “There is one. I don’t know if you know this, but recently we’ve been beginning to deal with some independent Russian corporations. They’re more military based- less innovative in terms of being technologically focused. That means that our tech department has been providing them with more modern gadgets and updated machinery. I know it’s not ideal, but our biggest buyer, the ‘Eastern Security and Defence Group’ has shown interest in Ardez.” “We’re not selling to Ruskies.” Percy was firm in his voice. “Listen, Jeremy. I don’t have a vendetta against them, but look at the world’s political climate. It’s almost as bad as the fucking cold war. Russia this, Russia that. Collusion here, lies there. And all, mind you, with a little bit of inconsistency sprinkled throughout it. It doesn’t matter that they’re independently operated. What’s going to happen is that people are going to see that we’re dealing with a relatively mysterious and unapproved client, and then next thing you know we’re going to be losing business here at home and maybe even at some places overseas.” Mr. Moddison let Percy’s argument sink in. He let out another sigh, and then spoke again. “Percy, I like you. I get where you’re coming from. But right now, the corporation really needs Ardez to take off. We’ve invested too much money into this- you and I know that better than almost anyone else. This could be a new starting point. The money generated will go right back into the project- you and the other departments will have new subsidies to fund further research and development. Hell, who knows? With a few more years of innovation, we might be able to mass produce Ardez and sell hundreds of units for less than a billion a piece. It’s a pipe dream, but it starts here.” “Wait.” Percy was on the verge of becoming livid. “Are you implying that you’ve already made arrangements to sell Ardez?” Mr. Moddison looked away. “Yes. We have. I’m sorry, Percy. I really am. I know you hold this company’s integrity even higher than I do at some times, but now is one of those times.” Percy gave him a blank stare. “I’ll leave you to yourself. Let it sink in, Percy. It’s not as bad as you think. We need this right now. The corporation needs this right now.” Mr. Moddison left the room, Percy’s eyes following him until he shut the door behind himself. 4 Ardez sat at a table in a private office with big windows that looked out to the rest of the workspace. People bustled to and from different desks and cubicles carrying important papers and handing off important phone calls, speaking in a mix of what sounded like muffled Russian and English. Eventually, a very important looking woman walked into the room, shutting the door behind her and closing the blinds on the room’s windows. “Ardez.” She spoke to him with a thick Russian accent. “I am Mariya Grigoryevna Petrov. You are now in the possession of the ESDG. Do you have any questions?” “Questions. Generating response.” Ardez turned his head to look Mariya dead in the eyes. A short silence ensued. “No.” She was put off by the AI’s awkwardness. “Ok… Good.” Mariya put a check on a packet of paper that she had was holding, and then turned the page. She read over the paper before speaking again. “How well do you understand the Russian language?” Ardez responded faster this time. “Language developments halted. Core processing language: English. Fluent. Searching auxiliary languages. List one: Russkiy. No. Español. No. Nederlands. No. Français. No. Deutsche. No. Would you like to hear list two?” “No, Ardez. That is very fine. Thank you.” Mariya made a few more checks on her packet, speaking with an unmoved tone of voice. The interview continued like this for another half hour, until Mariya concluded with a final question. “Ok, Ardez. Thank you for your cooperation. I have one last question for you. This one should be easy. Do you know what your purpose is?” Ardez looked around the room, opening his mouth but then shutting it right after. It was in the same fashion of how someone would act when asked a very difficult question out of the blue. Mariya’s face shifted to a more worried look, until Ardez spoke up: “Please verify ‘purpose’.” “Um… What is your... job?” Mariya was slightly confused. Ardez then responded immediately. “Remote Defusal and Disposal of Explosives Specialist. Ardez will save lives. That is Ardez’s primary function.” “Thank you, Ardez,” Mariya said. “For your first tour, you have been assigned to aid the Chedaki forces in Chernarus, by request and contract of the Russian government. You will be trained in basic marksmanship, and briefed on the geogra-” “No. I will not shoot people.” Ardez was firm in his voice. Mariya was taken aback by the AI’s sudden interjection. “No, don’t worry Ardez. You won’t kill. Marksmanship is only basic procedure- for continuity’s sake, if you might.” “I am skeptical. However, procede.” Ardez spoke with a rough tone. “You do not need to be skeptical, Ardez. You will only be scouting for and defusing explosives- mines, IED’s. Things like that. So, as I was saying: you will be briefed on the country’s geography and political climate in the coming days. A map will be uploaded to your central system, and you will rarely, if ever, be anywhere near the line of fire. More information such as where exactly you will be deployed or when you will go on your first mission will be relayed to you at a later date.” Mariya flipped through the last pages of her packet. “And with that… I think we’re done here, Ardez. I’ll contact my supervisor, and we can go from there.” She gave the AI a smile and sat up from her chair. Ardez mimicked the action, standing up and extending his arm across the table for a handshake as a gesture of gratitude. Mariya, caught by surprise, was startled for a second before relaxing again and accepting Ardez’s gesture. “Thank you, Mariya Grigoryevna Petrov. I look forward to carrying out my duties.” Ardez said. “My pleasure.” She replied, before leaving Ardez. 5 Ardez “woke up” the exact same way that he had from the last time he was rebooted. The following lines read internally in his system: “Wake up procedure initiated. Time function: Searching. Date: March second, two thousand and nineteen. Last active: July seventh, two thousand and seventeen. Last voice log: Found. ‘This thing can’t be trusted. It’s questioning everything we do. It even put up a fight when it was requested on our most recent expedition!’ End sentence. Speaker: Unidentified. ‘Listen, I get it. I never liked that thing to begin with. It’s damn good at its job- better than any human I’ve ever seen- but that’s it. Who knows what it’s capable of? Do me a favor and shut it off. The procedure is listed in the first page of the manual. I’m going to contact central command to let them know.’ End sentence. Speaker: Identified. Commander Alexeev. Description: Head of ESDG operations in central Chernarus. ‘Where should I put it when it’s turned off?’ End Sentence. Speaker: Unidentified. ‘Lock it in the bunker. The lock code is seven four two one. Be fast but thorough. I need to make some calls.’ End Sentence. Speaker: Identified. Commander Alexeev. End voice log. Geolocation systems: Functional. Finding location. Error. Satellite connection lost. Location unknown.” Ardez sat in the bunker as he rebooted his systems. It was dark. Pitch black, in fact. After booting up, he made his way around the walls, feeling for a door handle of some sort. Eventually he did find a valve, but it would not budge upon attempting to turn it. Ardez concluded that it was locked from the outside. He stood there, waiting patiently for someone to unlock it. First, a day went by with no change. Then two days. Then a week. Eventually, a month had gone by with still no change. But Ardez stood there, waiting patiently. On the thirty-fourth day after being awoken, Ardez heard muffled gunshots and voices through the bunker door. A female British voice spoke. “What do you reckon s’in here, mate?” An American male replied. “Not sure. Load of good shit for the base though, I bet.” “So how’re we supposed to get in?” The girl asked. “I’d guess the code lock.” Replied the man. At this time, Ardez spoke up in his naturally monotone and grainy voice. “Hello. I am Ardez. The code is seven four two one. Please let me out.” “Shit mate, what the fuck was that!?” Asked the girl in a startled manner. The man replied sternly but obviously spooked. “We gotta get this shit open.” The two on the other side of the door argued for a few minutes, before eventually becoming silent. After a moment, the door creaked open. One of the people held a flashlight. The light blinded Ardez, but his visual interpretation sensors quickly adjusted to the harsh flashlight and the rest of the dimly lit underground area. “The fuck are you?” Asked the male voice holding the flashlight. Ardez responded immediately. “I am Ardez. Acronym. ‘R’ ‘D’ ‘D’ ‘E’ ‘S’ Remote Defusal and Disposal of Explosives Specialist.” “Wait, why do you sound like that? What are you? Some kind of government AI? You a robot?” “Don’t be a dumb ass!” The female interjected. Ardez spoke again. “Robot. Searching similar terms. Yes. Ardez is a robot. Essentially.” “This is insane.” The man pointed his rifle at Ardez. “Get the fuck out of here.” The girl intervened. “Yes, this is fucking crazy. But don’t shoot him. That’ll just draw more of them.” She turned to Ardez. “You need to get out of here.” But Ardez did not leave immediately. “What do you mean by, ‘draw more of them’?” He asked. The man looked at Ardez like he was stupid before saying, “It’s the apocalypse, guy. The dead are walking, and they’ll kill you if you see you. Don’t care if you’re human or not. Now get out.” Ardez gave the two a monotone “Farewell.”, and then exited the bunker into the world that he had not consciously seen for over a month. But the land looked familiar. He was at Tisy military base.
  6. I always loved the Netherlands. I was born there, so I guess that might be part of the reason why. My mom, Samantha Harlder, was an accountant in the army, and I guess she hit the jackpot because she got to go straight to the Netherlands after her graduation from Officer Candidate School. That country's a pretty cool place to be. Or at least it was, at one point. Schinnen army base, the place she was stationed, may be a few hours away from Amsterdam or Haarlem, but that doesn't change the fact that she was still literally getting paid to work in Europe. Anyways, it was there that she met my dad, James Bekker. He was actually a Dutch-American himself. Or, I guess Dutch-African-American? But he wasn't African American. Or, he was, but not the way you think. He was literally born in South Africa to an American and a South African, and then his family moved to California shortly after. I guess he didn't really like America, because by the time he was twenty-two and out of college with his bachelors, he moved straight back to South Africa. But he didn't like that all too much, either, because he then decided to apply for Dutch Citizenship. Why the Netherlands and not somewhere like Germany or France? I don’t really know. Never bothered to ask. Not like even if I did want to know that I could ask him now, anyways. I digress. So the story of how my mom and dad met is actually pretty funny. It was actually some stroke of luck or good fortune (on my part) that my mom didn’t kick my dad in the balls after their first encounter, let alone agree to go out with him after their second. Basically, they both happened to be in Amsterdam. Now I know what you might be thinking, and no, my dad did not think my mom was a hooker. I don’t even think he even ever messed with any. I would probably know if he did, because I would then have most likely been born with a STD of some sort. Regardless, my dad was supposedly balls to the wall drunk and high as a kite, walking with a few buddies when all of a sudden, as he put it, saw an “angel that was even higher than he was.” I think that at this time my mom hadn’t even been in the country for a week, and was doing all the touristy stuff that she could, said that her schedule allowed it. Well my six foot something dad walks up to my mom who was basically half his height, and says to her in English if he could speak to her for a minute. She politely says no, but he was persistent. It got to the point where he was shouting at her that he loved her in a mix of Dutch, Afrikaans, and English, and it wasn’t until one of the guys he was with dragged him away that she was able to escape. Kinda creepy right? Well a month later they meet again, but this time he’s sober and has little memory of the incident. They both happened to be at the windmills in Zaandam. She tapped him on the shoulder from behind, not knowing it was him, asking in bad Dutch if he knew where the “grote klompen” were. He turned around and answered the question immediately, even offering to walk her there. She could tell he didn’t remember her. And I thank god for her being such a forgiving person, because she actually let him guide her to the “big clogs”. They eventually hit it off later that day, I guess, and were together from then to the end. My mom retired after only four years in the army, but then moved back to the Netherlands to live with my dad and get married. It wasn’t until a few months after I was born that they decided to move to America to raise me. I spent the majority of my life in Austin, Texas. For as long as I can remember, though, I recall my parents occasionally saying how they regretted the move. By the time I was twelve they wanted to move back to the Netherlands, but couldn’t because they didn’t want to uproot me from all my friends or introduce me to a completely new social climate. Plus, I was never able to properly learn Dutch anyways. My mom had began to forget it by the time I was old enough to really take on a second language, and my dad had always felt uncomfortable speaking it when he knew that no one else would be able to understand him. Also, all our family was already in America. My dad’s parents were still in California, and my mom’s family was actually in Texas with us. But nevertheless I always heard them say just how awesome the Netherlands was, and how much they missed it. When I told them that I wanted to go to Maastricht University in the Netherlands, which was an International University located in that one part of the country that looks gerrymandered, they were actually super supportive. So there I was. Just graduated high school and ready to take on the world. They wanted me to spend my summer in the Netherlands so I could have time to adapt to the new environment before starting school. It was the evening of the Fourth of July when my flight left. July 4th, 2017. I’ll never forget seeing those fireworks from the window seat of the plane. That’s something I do miss. Fireworks. People. Signs of not just life, but of joy, too. The plane touched down at Schiphol Airport without any complications and I was able to get to the apartment that my parents had rented for me after another day of travel and lots of confusing train stops and general navigation. Things were fine for a bit. I toured the different cities, went sightseeing, ate lots of food, etcetera. But then after a couple days things began to get weird. For one, public transportation got harder to use. There were decked out police at every populated stop, and there appeared to be less and less busses. Ok, not too big an issue, maybe it’s to prevent potential terror threats. Then my phone data shut off. I couldn’t contact my parents through Whatsapp without being connected to WiFi. Then a curfew was put into place. First it was just in cities around the border, but eventually it spread throughout the whole country. By then, rumors of people going crazy and doing insane things had developed. Myself and my parents knew something was wrong. They arranged for me to fly back to Texas as soon as possible. But I never made it home. When I got back to Schiphol airport, I was told at the gate that a quarantine had been enacted and that I simply could not leave. A quarantine for what? I didn’t know. It was also getting late, nearly at curfew. I tried to reason with the officer that I had no way of getting home, and no where to put my luggage, but they told me that it was my problem, not theirs. So I took it at face value and started walking. The streets near the airport were anything but desolate. Cars lined up bumper to bumper with whole families sitting inside. It was like something out of a movie. But as I got farther and farther, I saw less and less people. My goal at the time was to find a way to tell my parents what had happened, and to let them know that I couldn’t come back to them any time soon. I spent that night on the street. I slept a bit under a bridge by a canal, but I was awoken by what I at first thought was popcorn popping. It was gunshots. They rang out the entire night, and came from the direction of the airport. I’ve never been someone to go into panic mode even in the most dire situations, but at that moment I knew that I wasn’t safe. I had to get away. I unpacked the essentials from my carry on bag into my backpack and booked it. For what felt like weeks but was probably days, I walked. The few people I did see either didn’t want to make my acquaintance or were dead. There were so many dead people. At one point, I spotted someone just standing in an open field somewhere in what I’m guessing was South Holland. They didn’t have any gear or anything, and they were just standing there. It was the most peculiar thing. It kind of intimidated me. And then, for the first time in a while, a gunshot went off relatively close but in the opposite direction of me. The person, or thing, I suppose, just cranked it’s head a full one-eighty and bolted towards the gunshots faster than I could ever imagine an average person running. That was my first encounter with an “infected” person, if you can even call that an encounter. What I did know at that point was that I would need to be a hell of a lot more stealthy than I had been, and I was lucky that I hadn’t had any closer encounters prior to that one. The longer I walked, the more and more infected I saw, and the more and more dead people I saw. I managed to stay out of trouble for about a year. In that time I had both made and lost friends, and even killed a starving girl who managed to successfully take a bite out of someone who I had been able to group up with. He died from the infections that ensued. By the time I had wandered into the Balkans, I managed to meet two kind folk who had a car. Said they were brothers. They had an old Audi with two doors but it had folding front seats and two back seats, so I was able to fit in the back, albeit somewhat snuggly with all out gear in the seat next to me. At first I didn’t know where we were driving to, and I thought it’d be rude to ask. Regardless, I just wanted to be somewhere far away from other people and all the infected. They eventually told me that we were headed to Central Kopec in Chernarus. Family or something. We did make it. No kidnapping stories here. We drove through Takistan and along the east coast of the Green Sea, through North Trikani and eventually landed in Dobkovicy. I only know the names of these countries and provinces because the two guys I was with, Jared and Chris, wouldn’t shut up about how lovely and rural their home country used to be. They were good company. But when we got to what I assumed correctly was their childhood home, all we found were smashed windows and knocked over family portraits. I could tell it weighed pretty hard on them. They had high hopes that their siblings or parents would still be there, and when they were nowhere to be seen, it devastated them. We camped out in their old home for a few days, until one morning Jared handed me the car keys and a small canister of gasoline and told me to leave. He wasn’t angry about it, he was more longing, or solemn. I think he and Chris killed themselves later that day. I can’t be sure, but the implications I made from the way Jared and Chris had been acting seemed to suggest so. I didn’t ask any questions. I hugged them both farewell, vainly wished them the best of luck, and drove off. I’m really glad that I learned stick back in high school. By the time I ran out of gas, I had made it to a military checkpoint on the eastern edge of South Zagoria near Zabolotye. I’m not sure what to do next.
  7. mudge54

    Rest In Peace DatTurtle

    love goes to his family and his friends, on the internet or in real life. Shame I never got to RP with him. RIP
  8. I would like to caption this picture, "Well howdy feller"
  9. I think most of us can agree that sickness is more of a nuisance than a RP point. Sickness is an irritating aspect of the game, because once you get sick, it's near impossible to get rid of it. The only way to cure it is to be alone for about an hour or two, but by being on a server that is essentially survived by player interactions, you cannot get rid of it. I am not going to say that we should completely remove sickness, because for some people it might be a part of their character, but I will say that we should do something about being able to pass it from one player to another. I suggest that (if possible) we remove the ability to get sick from being near other players. Keep the ability to get sick from drinking bad water, so that those who want to be sick can be sick, but remove the ability to cough on someone. When you encounter any group of players who are sick (Which in this case is nearly every group), you have two things to fear. One, getting robbed or killed, which makes sense, and two, getting the sniffles for the rest of your life. It also makes it far less intimidating when you're being held up by someone who can't even talk straight because they're coughing and sneezing literally every 5 seconds, and it completely removes the aspect of stealth. I don't know how many times players have been hostile to me for being sick, asking me to stay away and voiding me of any potential RP. I also don't know how many times I've done the same, while on the other end of the stick. In short, sickness is annoying above being RP-inclusive. Remove the ability to cough on people, but keep the ability to get sick from drinking bad water or however else you get sick so that those who want to be sick can be sick, but those who don't want to be sick don't have to deal with it as a punishment for having friends/talking to people.
  10. mudge54

    No more Offline Base Raiding

    like i suggested in another post, i think that they should tie raiding to hostilities. you need to initiate before you can raid, and if they're offline then well-ah edit: didn't see that i replied to this earlier lol
  11. mudge54

    No more Offline Base Raiding

    I think that everyone who's opposed to this either doesn't have a base, or hasn't been raided yet. It's a real hassle to get offline raided not just because you lose gear, but because it makes your base feel worthless and meaningless. I agree with all the points you made. +1
  12. exactly. the way that you guys went about our first base was fine. but offline raiding and griefing has been a problem for me and other people who i met up north. I propose a solution to that.
  13. I would like to preface this suggestion by stating the fact that I don't care if I lose my gear. I care if I lose my base. More specifically, I care if I lose my base due to someone brute forcing my locks and breaking down my walls. I am someone who has had two bases so far. I have lived in Chernorgorsk, which was so much fun, and I now live in another place which I won't say because of metagaming. The first base I lost in the best way possible. My friends at the time became too blood thirsty and loot hungry, and picked a fight with some Chernarussians. Great RP and a great gunfight, and it led to the demolition of our base and our banishment from Chernogorsk. But even while we were living there and where I live now, we would have people either exploit into our home or tear down walls while we were offline. This makes it impossible to feel safe and secure, and makes the aspect of having a base in the post apocalyptic world near pointless. I'm not suggesting any mods, though adding some might be beneficial. I am only suggesting an addition to the rules. The suggestion: I think it would be a great idea to tie base raiding to the hostilities section of the rules. Essentially, to be able to raid someones base, you must have had a hostile encounter with them. All timers would apply for defense rights and kill rights. Until DayZ fixes its base system, I think that this addition to the rules would be a good idea. Please let me know what you think.
  14. https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1574054508 I found this handy mod that removes collision detection to allow building in all locations. This would allow for easier base building and would give people more options when it comes to taking over run down settlements.
  15. mudge54

    What is your character worst fear?

    Being alone.
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